


o, brave new world

by napaeae



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/napaeae/pseuds/napaeae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was adorned with a gift that embellished her in scars and cloying bruises. They did not fade, they were perfectly imperceptible, and sent palpitations of anguish down her spine. It was the gift of rebellion, and although she attempted to abstain from evil behaviors, she was seized by the hands of a new age. All she craved was to, somehow, change the world in which she resided, against all odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. an ode to rebellion

Burning lights of the expansive city shone like stars upon the dawn of a new era. It was in these times, these precious moments, that life boasted of a becoming quality. Somehow, in the isolated state of which she resided, her mind was a sonority for hope and optimistic nature. This was a rare occurrence, residing in a city built upon the despair of its inhabitants. 

She was adorned with a gift that embellished her in scars and cloying bruises. They did not fade, they were perfectly imperceptible, and sent palpitations of anguish down her spine. It was the gift of rebellion, and although she attempted to abstain from evil behaviors, she was seized by the hands of a new age. All she craved was to, somehow, change the world in which she resided, against all odds. Through her music, through projecting her vocals, through the prospect of an upcoming universe, rebellion was embedded into nerves of titanium. 

Almost instinctively, her fingers froze, as though her puppeteer ceased movement of her limbs, and the melody of which she was performing melted into oblivion. A blank expression was painted delicately upon her features, and it took the myriads of confused faces to seize her from her break from reality. It was unusual for Ibuki Mioda, a well-known musician and songwriter, as well as a waitress of the local grill and bar down the avenue, to suddenly end a performance on account of nothing. Yet, intuition, in a brutal fashion, pleaded for her halt her song; the notes and chords were too devious to bear. 

"Ibuki..." a voice filled the chilling air. "What's wrong?"

Ibuki shook her head with false encouragement and placed her fingers gently upon the strings of her guitar. As though it was pure second nature, she began playing her tune again, the notes almost kissing the frozen air with pulses of pure warmth. Everyone in the audience shed their worries upon hearing her music coat the world in a blessing. 

Music, in itself, was a blessing upon a desperate city, ever since its prohibition sent many spiraling into a deep depression. Ibuki was, by the simplest terms, the most hindered by its ban, and was driven to perform by any means. Yet, in her heart of hearts, she knew that her music was an illegal substance, and she fretted her immediate capture, similar to the current evening. 

Once she finished her piece, time was at a standstill, or so it seemed. She was yearning to perform her more accomplished number, and its power struck with bullet-like intensity. Not one soul dared to utter a single breath, a whisper. Clocks ticked on, and one could feel the tension rise to skyscrapers upon their meager existences. Ibuki took a moment to allow the electricity to seep into skulls prior to lifting herself up, bowing, and exiting the scene. 

\---

Business was atrociously lethargic at Teruteru's on Mondays, and if that is so, then Ibuki is especially lethargic herself. She found herself toying about with her hair, twirling multicolored locks and lacing them through delicate fingers.

It was on these exact days that she pondered her lifetime, trapped inside of a city whose walls can neither be hindered nor destroyed by the means of its captors. Restrictions stand high and mighty upon a dense population and neither she nor the rest of her peers can combat the reign of despair. A king so defiant, so gracefully brutal, always had the upper hand. 

"Mioda!" 

Ibuki turned only to be shockingly, albeit curtly, greeted by her diminutive superior Teruteru Hanamura himself. He wiped beads of perspiration trickling down his features with a dirtied apron, and impatiently crossed his arms as though he were expecting some form of apology. 

"I-Ibuki's sorry, sir," Ibuki stammered, attempting with all she could muster to compose and present herself as a diligent employee. This was not the first time Teruteru had caught her in the midst of simpleton daydreams, or so he described her thoughts of rebellion, but he was typically never this upset. His face was contorted in contempt, and with steps of anger progressing towards Ibuki, he managed to tiptoe himself to Ibuki's height and glare at her with deep indignation. 

"Just because Mondays are typically slow does not mean you don't work. Make yourself useful and sweep the floors."

With a hastened pace, her boss made his approach towards the kitchen, where he rightfully lurked. Ibuki, in turn, rummaged through the closet in search of a broom.

This job, although providing a living she would otherwise not receive, made her gut lurch in sorrow. If she were to be granted two wishes, they would be to spark the embers of rebellion and muster the courage to quit her job. Yet, in the machinations of her mind, she knew that her livelihood relied on the labor she slaved day in and day out. 

With graceful strokes, as though she was painting a masterpiece of the highest standard, she gently swept the floorboards as though she was their master.

A long time ago, she was once a member of the organization dedicated to pure despair, or so the story goes. She was never quite certain how she was once a member of a group that feasted upon the despair of humankind, as though they were leeches that were preying on weakened lifeforms, but she was positive that, against all odds, she would bring the organization to ashes. 

Once again, captured by fingers of deep thought, Ibuki did not free herself from her distant universe until she heard the piercing ringing of bells reverberating in her skull. She was paranoid for an instant until she realized that the noise was the bell on the door that signified a customer. 

"Hey, welcome to Teruteru's, how many do we--" 

She froze once she seized a glimpse of the woman in front of her. 

She was a delicate frame draped in skin of ivory silk, whose curves were irresistible upon first sight. She was graced with rose eyes and rubicund blush as though it were airbrushed onto her skin. Her long, flowing locks were amethyst in pigment, and she was dressed in a student nurse's outfit. Ibuki could not remove her eyes from the visual of who was, without a single doubt, the most beautiful woman she had ever laid vision upon. 

"U-Um..." The woman stammered, clutching at her jacket. "J-Just one, please..." 

Her flushed blush was more apparent than ever upon spewing the words from her lips, and she, somehow instinctively, covered her lips with her dainty hands. 

"I-I'm sorry! You probably knew that, didn't you? I-I didn't mean to..." 

As soon as she finished her sentence, tears began rushing down her cheeks; diamonds falling to her chin, plummeting, and shattering upon the floor like glass. 

Ibuki rushed over to her and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. "Don't worry. You have nothing to apologize for, everything will be okay." 

The woman gazed into Ibuki's eyes, and snatched her hands suddenly. 

"Y-You're too kind. I'm so sorry for suddenly bursting into hysterics. I-It's just..."

Ibuki shook her head. "Say no more, Ibuki accepts your apology."

The woman cocked her head and analyzed Ibuki from head to toe. "Y-You...look oddly familiar. H-Have we met...?" 

Ibuki's eyes widened upon the stranger sputtering the words. She had hoped she was only a vague memory of a passerby on the street rather than an illegal musician in alleyways. 

"Um..." 

"Y-You know, I might be thinking of someone else. I'm sorry, again."

Ibuki released the breath she had been holding captive for that moment. She wondered what triggered that unexpected recognition from the woman, but nevertheless, it probably did not matter. Somehow, in an absurd fashion, this woman piqued Ibuki's interests, and she was aching, yearning, to learn even more about her in such a minor slot of time. 

"Anyway, table for one?"


	2. ignite an ember; decay the agony

It was not only the beauty of her fair skin and glowing eyes that made her seemingly flawless, it was also the potential she carried along with her.

Tsumiki Mikan captivated minds with her skill in the nursing industry, and somehow she had a detail that clung to her. It made her distinct from the remainder of her class. It exhausted Mikan; it made her feel ill at ease knowing she possessed an obscure agenda that only she knew of: a lust for rebellion.

At the end, she remained hopeful. She contained an intuition that, somewhere in the city coated with a despair like no other, someone possessed a similar mindset. So much so that they must ponder the same thought: who else?

Yet, it was not the idea of rebellion that made her physically weak; it was her acceptance. It was factually repulsive to her, this cooperation, and there was truly little for her to do. If the mastermind behind the city were to fall sick at any moment, she would not hesitate to kill them. She would not hesitate to insert the lethal injection, pretending it was the cure. She would not hesitate to silently succumb to laughter once the mastermind sputtered their final breath. It would be inordinately rollicking and pleasurable to her, and that was what made her the epitome of wicked.

\---

"Student nurses, assemble."

The head nurse of the hospital, an eye for firm instruction, gathered Mikan and her class to the center of the emergency room and read off the lineup for the day.

"The main aspect of the day would be a surgical observation. Detailed notes are required and if any of you squirm or flinch during the operation, you will be dismissed and fail the assignment."

A drill lacking complexity. Mikan gave in to a conceited thought that she should simply pass without even performing the task. Being able to scrawl quick notes and enjoy a surgery, no less; difficulty ceased function for this day.

Regardless, Mikan accomplished her duties. She scribbled her observations and mumbled concentrated words as she wrote, which forced other students to tilt their heads and utter an annoyed breath. Mikan lacked concern, for this method guaranteed success, not only to graduate from nursing school, but to possibly earn a position in the despair city's only hospital.

\---

Post-operation, one of the only students who seemed to tolerate Mikan, rushed over and gave her a soft slap on the back. Mikan squealed in terror, but immediately showed embarrassment upon noticing it was a fellow comrade.

"That operation was disgusting, huh," the pupil commented, unable to hide a grin.

"I-I thought it was...v-very interesting," Mikan quietly responded, checking her cell phone for the time.

"God, I was almost close to vomiting," she spoke again, tossing her hair. "Good thing I took notes. Yo, what's the time?"

"H-Half past five."

"Fuck, I'm so hungry, whaddya say we go grab some grub?"

Mikan could feel a tinge of excitement build up within her once she heard the invitation. It was uncommon for her to be asked for a dinner with another; usually she was much too timid to associate with the rest of the class, or occupied with intensive studying.

However, she had made plans with herself at Teruteru's earlier in the day to congratulate herself for a job well done.

"I-I can't, I h-have plans..."

"Well, shit, that sucks," the girl replied, a slight frown growing, like weeds, on her lips, " well, see you 'round."

She rushed off, joining a group of female students and, with blatant disregard, did not notice Mikan's sudden rush of tears. Mikan despised herself for not even considering how she might have had fun with the convivial other, and once wiping her tears, she exited the hospital, guilt in hand.

\---

She arrived at Teruteru's, by taxi, at 6. She had gotten over her fit of tears once she had a therapeutic conversation with the driver, whose name she could not quite remember. Souda something.

Her heavy heart craved a sign of joy, and upon entering the restaurant, her desires were relieved once she caught a view of immediate beauty.

Locks that were painted in multiple hues decorated her overall being. It wrapped her thin face that appeared bored prior to her beautifully pigmented eyes locking onto Mikan's own . Her waitress uniform hugged her skinny frame, which Mikan considered exceedingly attractive, and she captured a gaze at the girl's entire body before shaking her head to free herself from a stare that held her taut.

Mikan gripped at her coat. "J-Just one, please..."

 _Shit._ It appeared in Mikan's mind that the other must have known that, because the woman offered a puzzled look.

"I-I'm sorry! You probably knew that, didn't you? I-I didn't mean to..."

Mikan assumed her position of hysterical tears once more, and the girl rushed over to her and offered words of kindness after stroking her drenched optics with a handkerchief.

The piece of cloth was laminated with the waitress's scent; a slight peppermint odor that made Mikan's heart beat all the more so.

However, once she smelled the perfume, Mikan suddenly had her mind flash to indistinguishable memories, ones that were difficult to make focused, and she angled her head.

With quick glancing, the young woman was a simple waitress (albeit impossibly beautiful), but a sense of familiarity took root in her heart. Where had she seen this appealing other before?

"Y-You...look oddly familiar. H-Have we met...?"

"Um..."

_Stupid. This was the first time you have met her. And yet..._

"Y-You know, I might be thinking of someone else. I'm sorry, again."

The other girl, who mentioned her name was Ibuki (she had spoken in a third-person fashion), looked perplexed, but she politely nodded towards Mikan, gesturing to the seats behind her."

"Anyway, table for one?"

\---

Ibuki and Mikan were somehow fairing well together. The eating area was empty aside from the both of them, and with every chance Ibuki collected, she sat with the girl. 

Mikan was so focused on eating her spaghetti that she did not notice Ibuki seating herself across from her. She jumped a bit, but abruptly calmed herself when she realized it was the waitress. She was overwhelmed with a sense of calmness when she was around Ibuki, despite having just been introduced to her. Ibuki positively heightened her behavior somehow, and especially her interests. 

"Y'know, Ibuki absolutely hates this fucking city." 

Mikan practically choked herself on her pasta, and she glanced up at the server. 

"What? It's true. There's nothing good to it. It's built on pure bullshit." 

She glanced the other way, leaned back in her chair with a childish gleam in her eyes, and gave a sly smile towards Mikan. 

Ibuki leaned closer to Mikan and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Ibuki's a musician. She likes to play in the alleyways at night." 

"Th-That's ambitious," Mikan spoke suddenly, with a seducing purr in her voice, "I would not h-have considered that upon first glance." 

Her eyes immediately widened. "Th-That wasn't an insult or anything, I just...!" 

A laugh. "It's chill, Ibuki gets what you meant." 

Mikan grinned through her face of humiliation, and politely cleared her face of any possible mess with a napkin.

"I-I'll be honest, I'm n-not too fond of this city, either." 

"Really."

"Y-You don't sound too convinced..." 

She giggled. "Just never would've considered a nurse to dislike this city." 

Mikan could feel the spark, the indication of rebellion, ignite within her. Was Ibuki, the illegal musician who performed in alleyways, the fated turbulant partner she had been yearning for? Yet, who was she to assume facts about a girl she had hardly knew? She, like God, did not preoccupy with haphazard luck. 

"I-I'll tell you why I want to work in a hospital." 

Ibuki displayed attentiveness.

"B-Because...it is the only place in this city that forebodes any hope. I-I could save a life, I could secure the fates of a population. I breathe protection; it is my only approach to defy the town of anguish." 

It was Ibuki who felt the surge of dissent from inside. She was being sent pulsations down her spine; beads of metaphorical perspiration peaked from the crown of her head and rushed down her cheekbones. It was in that moment, that minute of explanation, that she felt a love for the other and her ideations. 

And, similar to a fish, she had been hooked, and eternally so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after a long period of considering this fic, i have returned with another chapter to the tsumioda concept i had been working on for some time!!
> 
> here we learn of tsumiki mikan, and we delve into the beginning relationship of ibuki and mikan!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter!! managed to complete this in a day.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chapter of a multi-chaptered fiction i'm writing for ibuki mioda and tsumiki mikan!! i've worked really hard on the plot of this, and i hope this is a fic that everyone comes to enjoy!!
> 
> i made it so that she was never murdered and tsumiki was never executed. however, they were both members of shsl despair prior to having their memories wiped and being put into the shsl despair city 
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoy!! if you like what was written thus far and would like to see more, please leave a kudos and/or a comment!!


End file.
